Thoughts on Odysseus (or Penelope, the first Army Wife)
The more I look back to the stories of Odysseus, the more I cant help but to wonder what his wife Penelope in Ithaca must have felt.
Or any of the women really.

Penelope was left with Antcleia and Eurycleia in Ithaca, to have Telemachus without Odysseus.

For twenty years she avoids suitors, raises Telemachus, and... Read More

Remember getting to the bottom of your soul, through the travel of glass after glass after glass of whiskey?
I identify with that with that comfort more than a clear recollection of my actions.
Age has brought me maturity, and maturity has brought me the heavy truth. The truth of what happens after we make our choices. Not to say that I regret. There really... Read More

Reckless and passionate are two sides to the same coin. I mean really, how can you be totally and utterly passionate WITHOUT having a solid degree of recklessness (be it mental or physical) involved in the mix?

Mira's right, maturity always brings hindsight because when you're younger and carefree you almost never stop to wonder where you're off to with your choices in the first place. The problem with gaining that the insight that comes with maturity is that you truly feel losses and finalities more deeply because you understand the extent as to how deeply these happenings cut.

Drink after drink was the only way I used to be able to feel anything when I was younger. These days, the more I drink the less I feel and that's utterly fucked, because now, more than ever, I WANT to care.

As for "love" well, it's a four letter word, just like frog or shit or cake; all things I steer way clear of these days.

("There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." Ernest Hemingway)

I have these dreams, of those who are dead, or dead to me.
Things play out differently in my head...
I get to reach inside and pull out all the sharp parts, that tear up my insides when I'm alive.
Handing them over to their rightful... Read More